


Forgetting

by SecondSilk



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M, Porn Battle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-19
Updated: 2010-05-19
Packaged: 2017-10-09 13:53:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/88179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondSilk/pseuds/SecondSilk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wilson leaves Julie and shows up on House's doorstep without knowing what he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgetting

**Author's Note:**

> For the porn battle June 2006 prompt: House/Wilson, forgetting.  
> Beta-ed by Topaz_Eyes

Wilson showed up at House's door without making a conscious decision to be there. He had had the Conversation with Julie on autopilot, the buzzing in his head drowning out her words. He packed his suitcase and she paced the hallway outside their room, maintaining the physical distance as though being in the bedroom with him was poisonous. But he could think of nothing but the way this had fallen apart. He could see nothing but the image of Julie on their wedding day, and he reminded himself to think of her as his ex-wife.

When House opened the door, Wilson realised that he had no reason to expect help from this quarter. House called him an idiot and Wilson wondered why he'd come here. House had already said he would not be there to talk about it. Wilson braced himself for the inevitable 'I told you so'. But House only asked if he wanted a beer, and Wilson remembered that House was his friend.

Wilson walked past House to drop his suitcase on the floor behind the couch. He turned back to House, who had paused to close the door, and found House watching him. Wilson glanced around House's apartment, but there was nothing different from the last time he had been there. Wilson tried standing up straighter and keeping his hands from shaking. But he could tell that House saw through it all. House stalked closer to him, and Wilson found he couldn't move away.

House looked determined, and curious, and wary as he approached Wilson. Then they were chest to chest, and a breath later House kissed him. It was a straightforward brush of lips on lips, completely unexpected, and tentative in way Wilson had never thought possible from House.

Wilson barely had chance to register the warmth of House's lips before House pulled back. His eyes travelled over Wilson's face, trying to pull some conclusion from his expression.

"Why are you here?" he asked, like it was a symptom in a diagnosis. And he waited, testing Wilson's reaction.

Wilson gaped at him for a whole heartbeat. "Julie left me," he repeated, dumbly.

House's expression didn't change as he leant into Wilson – his body was warm, even through so many layers of clothing – and kissed him again. House ran his tongue over Wilson's lip and Wilson gasped against his mouth. Then it was lips and tongues and House's hands on the side of his neck. There was a dull thud as House's cane fell to the floor. Then it was three steps back to the support of the wall. Wilson was trapped between the cold plaster and House's solid weight. It felt more like security than confinement, although Wilson did not have the power to think such long words.

It took him a moment to recover his breath and remember to open his eyes when House stopped kissing him. House's fingers were tracing circles into Wilson's hair, distracting him from stringing words together. Wilson barely had time to say "House, what—?" before House was kissing him again.

Wilson brought his hands to House's shoulders, thinking that he should push him away. There was an argument to be had here, and questions that needed answers. But when House's teeth fastened on Wilson's lower lip, Wilson's hands fisted in House's shirt, pulling him closer. They had discussed the possibility of this years ago, but they had never tested the theory that it simply would not work. Wilson was not sure that things had changed enough since then. But whatever Wilson's reservations, or House's motives, Wilson's body did not care; he had not been touched like this for much too long.

House went to work on Wilson's clothes, pushing coat and scarf and jacket out of the way of Wilson's shirt buttons. Wilson did not let go of House, and his outer clothes hung awkwardly from his elbows. House did not worry; he pulled back slightly to do battle with the little pieces of plastic, slowly and steadily revealing Wilson's skin.

Wilson watched House's fingers as they moved deftly over his clothes. Part of him was still thinking about Julie and the angry tears in her eyes, and he didn't know how he had gotten here. He watched, mesmerised, until the shock of House's breath against his skin caused him to gasp.

When Wilson was able to speak, all he could say was, "What are you doing?"

That earned him a scathing look from House: a very blatant, 'You don't know what this is?' Wilson was afraid that he knew exactly what this was – the House equivalent of a shoulder to cry on. He could not rely on House for comforting words or reasonable advice. But some part of Wilson had known that whatever he really needed, House would be able to supply.

Even sex, apparently: wasn't it always about sex?

House's fingers brushed teasingly over Wilson's nipples, sending a rush of lust through Wilson's body. He was not surprised that he was already hard. But with a skipped heartbeat he realised that he could feel House's erection against his thigh.

There was no arguing with House. Wilson had enough sense of himself to recognise the determined, 'I'm right, re-test everything,' look on House face. And he decided, in a fit of desperate recklessness, to give himself over to it. He did not know what 'it' was or what would happen afterwards, but he wasn't keeping score. So he dropped his arms, letting his clothes fall to the floor, and started removing House's jacket, fingers catching on the folds, but moving quickly. House smirked into the kiss.

"Is this why you came to me, Jimmy?" House murmured against his lips. Wilson let out an exasperated sigh, even as he ran his fingers over House's hips.

"House, I hardly think…" he started to say.

House pulled back and glared at him. "Don't think!" he instructed, before leaning in to steal Wilson's breath in another fierce kiss.

Wilson gave up thinking and speaking and even moving, aware only of House's mouth on his jaw and throat and chest until House pulled away. He sounded disinterested when he asked, "Why did you come here?"

But Wilson's heightened awareness let him hear the restraint in House voice, like he had an idea for theory and was testing it against Wilson's answer. Wilson had to force himself to understand the words through a haze of desire.

"Huh?" he said.

"Better," House told him, but Wilson was already no longer really listening.

House kissed him again, hard, and Wilson opened his eyes to House's intense scrutiny. House moved his hands to Wilson's hips and held on. Wilson was too busy watching House to say anything as House shifted his weight and, using Wilson for support, lowered himself onto his right knee. House hissed through his teeth as he brought his left leg around to kneel before Wilson.

Wilson could only stare at him, panic starting to rise up from his feet. But when House said, "This isn't easy, Jimmy. I hope you appreciate it," Wilson almost laughed, slightly hysterical from the thought of what was about to happen.

With great deliberation, House unfastened Wilson's belt, undid his fly and pushed down his underwear. Wilson wanted to say something in reply that would make this possibly normal for them. But then House ran his tongue along the length of Wilson's erection and Wilson couldn't draw breath.

He couldn't hear past the thudding beat of his heart and he couldn't think through the sudden overwhelming pleasure and the relief when House touched him again. But he could watch House carefully wrap his mouth around the head of his cock and feel the fingers that tickled his balls. He couldn't form words. When House sucked, Wilson groaned. His breath caught in his throat and he knew that he was whimpering.

His body was coming apart, pieces breaking off and floating away. He thought of Julie's shoes, visible as pulled his suitcase from under the bed; and Sandra, his first wife, handing back her wedding ring; and his brother, finally turning his back on them all and walking into the empty streets. Soon there would be nothing of him left except the pressure of House's hands on his hips. Wilson focused on the building hot, sharp tension and House's weight against his legs. House would keep the parts of him that mattered.

House's eyes were lit with delight as he looked up at Wilson. Wilson felt something unnameable clench in his chest; he always had found House's smugness far too attractive. But even as incoherent as he was, Wilson was not going to let House get his way entirely. If this was the only time he was going to have House on his knees, Wilson was going to take advantage of it. He raised his hands to House's head, guiding him and holding him in place.

House's hair was coarse and dry, and tickled Wilson's palms. Wilson couldn't keep his hands still; he combed his fingers through House's hair, feeling the shape of his head, the curve of his ears, the stubble on his jaw.

House pulled away nearly long enough to say, "Your wife…"

Wilson's fingers tightened in his hair. "Don't dare sto…" he said, his words choking off when House blew on his slick cock, before taking it in his mouth and sucking again.

House's mouth was hot and wet, and Wilson thrust, urging House to swallow deeper. House refused, using his tongue instead in ways Wilson could not picture. He could only feel the rough pressure and sudden flutters. There was nothing in the world but this, now, the sharp feeling of tension and pressure and, 'oh, God, I'm going to come.' House squeezed the hand on Wilson's cock in response, one finger teasing his balls. Wilson gasped as he came, leaning his head back against the wall and squeezing his eyes shut.

House swallowed awkwardly and Wilson shivered. He tried to think of where his body was and how he felt, but everything was wispy and steam-like, formless. He was only peripherally aware of releasing House and losing the heat of his mouth. He felt House use him for support to climb back to his feet, but didn't feel House tuck him back into his clothes. Then House leant against him, the warmth of his body welcome, and his erection still obvious.

Wilson felt himself smiling, pleased that he had such an effect on House in return. He wondered, vaguely, how he should reciprocate. Before Wilson made a move, though, he opened his eyes. House was watching him with his intensely serious and curious look.

"What were you thinking when you came here?"

Wilson blinked. He tried to think through the post coital fog and the desire to kiss House into silence. He couldn't.

"I forget," he said. House's expression dissolved into proud satisfaction. He kissed Wilson fiercely, his grin smug.

Wilson tasted himself on House's tongue and leant forward into the kiss. But House stepped away.

"Did you say yes to beer?" he asked.

Wilson struggled to process the question. He had not thought that House would make a declaration, but his nonchalance was disconcerting. Wilson was glad to recover his vocabulary.

He tried to reach for House, but House was already walking toward the kitchen.

"Do you want beer?" he repeated. "And you can order in. Unless you want peanut butter and jelly."

Wilson slowly picked his clothes up off the floor, re-buttoning his shirt and hanging up his jacket and coat.

"Do you want me to…?" Wilson trailed off, gesturing to House's groin. House dismissed it with a wave of his hand and an awkward shrug.

"You can have your turn later, when I can lie down. First, food."

House grabbed the phone and threw it to Wilson, who caught it easily.

"The Indian place delivers," House said.

"Okay," Wilson replied.

And just like that the world returned, and Wilson felt solid again, condensed out of the steam and fog. He recalled their usual order and dialled the number from memory while House opened the beer.


End file.
